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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27096250">so please don't go, most nights i hardly sleep when i'm alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethiefs/pseuds/littlethiefs'>littlethiefs</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Masturbation, Post Empire of Gold, Sad smut, it's a rainy night in daevabad and nahri's feeling a little lonely, maybe she misses someone wink wink nudge nudge</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 03:54:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,515</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27096250</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethiefs/pseuds/littlethiefs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Empire of Gold.</p><p>He's gone, but the rain always brings thoughts of him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>so please don't go, most nights i hardly sleep when i'm alone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Thunder rumbled over Daevabad, deep and foreboding. It was past midnight, the city silent and still, and Nahri lay awake in her bed, gazing up at the ceiling, listening. All day the overcast sky had threatened rain, a persistent breeze her only companion as she’d walked to and from the hospital. It seemed the clouds were finally ready to make good on their promise. Nahri sat up, frustrated that she couldn’t sleep and made her way to the window. She threw it open and rested her elbows on the ledge, leaning out and letting the wind caress her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then a drop. Landing on her cheek, making her shut her eyes in reflex. Then another, and another, until the rain was pitter pattering on the roof of her home, bouncing off her skin and trickling down from her hair into her bedclothes. Nahri brushed her mane of hair to one side, closed her eyes and stood there, inhaling the earthy scent of the city, allowing herself to relish the calm that came with the pouring rain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When another hum of thunder sounded, accompanied by a flash of lightning that lit up the inside of her eyelids, her mind drifted to another night just like this. A night that had brought monsters traveling on the jagged flashes of lightning, stalking through the water with sharp fangs and black-tipped claws, with mocking smiles on their lips and cruel words on their tongues. But before that. In a dark and still cave, she’d had someone with her, the press of his warm body beside hers and then under hers, his hands in her hair and his lips on her throat, and Nahri would face down ten more ifrit at this very moment if it meant that he could be by her side again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You’re a fool</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she chided herself. Twisting her now-damp hair into a messy braid, Nahri walked back to her bed, leaving the window open. She plopped down onto her back, sank back into her cushions and closed her eyes. She liked to begin her mornings early whenever she could; sometimes she would go on a ride with Mishmish, other times she would visit the forest and sit under the trees, sifting through ancient texts to unearth a way to free the slaves. Her late mornings, afternoons and evenings were entirely reserved for the hospital and politics. But most nights, she found it difficult to sleep, a nagging eating away at her mind, as if despite everything she had, something important was missing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You know what’s missing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, an achingly familiar voice whispered in her ear. He sounded like he was smiling. She pictured him then, propped up on an elbow, lying on his side beside her. The side of his lips quirked up in a teasing smile, his eyes bright and </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Creator, help me. With her eyes still shut, she almost reached out to see if he was there. To see if she could tangle her fingers in his hair and pull her to him like she’d wanted to that last time they’d been in each other’s presence. Pulling away from him, letting him walk away, was the hardest thing she had ever done when every fiber of her being wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and hold on for dear life, refusing to let him leave again. But it’s what he’d needed, and she would never deny him that, even if she was denying what she needed in the process—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A crack of lightning made her jump, and her eyes snapped open. Her room was empty. Her bed was empty. A crushing sense of loneliness descended on her like it often did, so much so that it frustrated her more than saddened her. When it happened, she would leave her bed and go sit near her books, reading by a fire to distract herself until the rays of the sun cracked through her windows, the birds of early morning chirping their arrival. But today, with the sound of the rain ringing in one ear and the sound of his voice ringing in the other, something told Nahri that the search for distraction would be a futile endeavor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so she let herself feel it. The ache. The desire. To have someone beside her. Someone whose presence would be a comfort during the darkest hours of the night, someone she would see as soon as she opened her eyes in the mornings. Someone who would press close to her during nights like these with the thunder rumbling in the distance, her heart fluttering maddeningly in her chest for no apparent reason. Someone who would throw an arm around her prone body, clutching her close, a strong, hot hand slipping beneath her tunic and tracing circles in her skin. Someone who would whisper infuriating and sweet things in her ear. The press of a body on top of hers, one of his knees slipping between her legs while he worked at her throat, his hot breath causing puffs of fog to release from his mouth in the cold, rainy blackness. And then he would stop and he would look at her and her black eyes would meet his green ones—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Green. Nahri let out a ragged breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like I said, a fool</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was always those green eyes, the ones that would crease at the corners when he laughed, that would narrow in suspicion when he knew she was up to no good, which was always. That darkened with desire and longing when she’d rolled on top of him and kissed him like it was their last night on earth. Nahri pressed her thighs together, trying to calm herself, to get that dangerous stirring deep within her belly under control. But the damage was done.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Let me, little thief</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And so she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let him cup her neck with a hot palm, before running it down the length of her body. He stopped at the hem of her shirt, pushing the material up until his deft fingers were underneath and traveling. He touched a breast, making her gasp. He touched a nipple with a finger, briefly, tracing circles on her breast while he did it and Nahri’s free hand grasped the bedsheets in a tight fist as her back arched. And then he was traveling further down, slipping his fingers under the waistband of her trousers, prying apart her already slick thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He touched her slit fleetingly. Nahri swore, and she could almost hear a quiet laugh mingling with the growl of the thunder. He slid his finger between her slit, taking a moment to appreciate how mad with desire she was for him, before plunging one finger inside her. Nahri writhed on her sheets, a fist pressed against her breast as she felt him work at her. His first finger was joined with a second, and then a third, until she was so wet that she could hear her slickness with each thrust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped, and she paused to gather her breath, her heart thudding in her ribcage. He would have been able to hear it. He would have smiled, a wicked, triumphant thing that would have ruined her right there. And then his fingers were back, his index and middle finger brushing her clit, making her hiss. He paused again for a second before he began to work circles around the spot, its sensitivity making her gasp with pleasure, jolts of sensation shooting through her body. He found a rhythm that made her press her hips into her bed and bunch her free fist in the sheets again and she arched her back while she approached her peak, opening her mouth and crying out a desperate “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dara</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” while everything within her exploded spectacularly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he was gone, and Nahri pulled her hand out from within her trousers, letting it fall to her side. She sank back into her bed, catching her breath, her body feeling limp and calm. And cold. Nahri grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around herself before sinking back into bed. She refused to close the window: the sounds of the rain made her feel less alone than she would have felt otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks felt wet. Perplexed, she touched her hand to her face only for her fingers to meet the teardrops settled mockingly on her skin. Angrily, she wiped them away. For the third time that night, she called herself a fool, then turned onto her belly and closed her eyes, her lashes wet and heavy against her cheek. She began to count, slowly and rhythmically - if nothing, this practice of counting would put her to sleep…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps she was awake, perhaps she was asleep, perhaps she was in that state of consciousness in the middle where nothing is real and everything is real both at once. She felt a weight at her back, heat searing into her skin, and an arm circling around her waist, drawing her to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t go,” she whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Never</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
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